Return To Marker Ranch. Claire McEwen

of the community.”

      “Those things won’t mean much if I fail and lose the ranch.”

      “So don’t fail.”

      “How?” He stood up, pacing the floor by the table. “How do I not fail if I make decisions based on being nice? This is water we’re talking about. A key ingredient for a ranch.”

      Nora gave him a long look. She’d given him the same look many times when he was a teenager and she wasn’t much older than that, and she was trying to raise him right. “Ranches here are failing left and right. Do you really want Lori to lose hers? After how hard she and her family have worked to keep it going all these years? Even after their mom died?”

      He remembered how devastated Lori had been. How she’d drifted, sad and empty, through her sophomore year of high school. How she’d grown up after that, become an adult way before the rest of them had, trying to take care of her father and her sister. He’d watched her back then, wishing he knew how to offer comfort. “Of course I don’t want them to lose their ranch. But it’s a business, right? Everything I’ve read about ranching says it’s a business. And we need that water to make our business a success.”

      “Any good book on business should also mention that out of hardship can come innovation. You need to let go of some of that water and then innovate. Figure out a way to get by with less.”

      “But...”

      Nora cut him off. “Your books won’t help with this issue because they’re not written for people experiencing the worst drought in California’s long history of droughts! But you and Lori are smart. And you’ve got me—how many people can say they have an expert on range management in the family? I’ll go though her pastures as well as ours if you want, and see if I can help.”

      “I guess.” Wade set the paper aside, trying to put aside his anxiety with it. He was overly cautious. He knew that. Partly because he’d come back here to prove that he could make this a success.

      But also because growing up, ranching was his dream. He’d watched the other families in the area with their cattle and horses and their nice clothes and pickups. He’d seen their barbecues and barn raisings and the way they high-fived and slapped backs at local events. And he’d wanted that life. A normal, hardworking life. He’d wanted it badly, and now he had a small chance at making it happen.

      He shook his head, trying to loosen the anxious buzzing there. The voice whispering that no matter what he did about the water, he’d find a way to mess this up because failure was in his DNA. He tried to shush it, to see it for what it really was—the aftereffects of months in combat. The whispers of doubt over the smallest decisions. The intense irritation when things didn’t go his way. It was making him rigid. It had him digging his heels in with Lori and Jim the other day. Had him grimly clinging on to what he felt might be the quickest path to security and survival—no matter what the consequences to others.

      Nora stood up and reached for his hand, guiding him back down to his seat at the table. “Little bro, take a breath. It’s going to be okay.”

      He raised his brows at her. “Really?”

      “I think so. You’re just in survival mode right now. And it’s making you a little frantic.”

      “What do you mean?” He’d been in survival mode before. With bullets hitting the dirt around him as he scrabbled for shelter. This wasn’t that.

      “I mean how we grew up. Everyday survival. How to get food, how to get clothes, how to make it without a mom, how to stay out of Dad’s way. I think it’s easy to slip back into that way of thinking, where it’s all about trying to get the next meal.”

      Wade traced an old water stain on the table. He hated talking about the past. Hated remembering the searing of his dad’s belt on his back and the ache of hunger in his stomach.

      “Sometimes I wonder if all that surviving made us a little hard,” Nora said quietly. “Because we had to look out for ourselves, and focus all our energy on just getting by.”

      “That’s a good thing,” Wade countered. “We’re not dependent. We take care of ourselves. It’s made us successful.” It had brought him through some scary battles.

      “It can be a good thing,” Nora said gently. “But lately I’ve been thinking about how all the independence that saved us when we were kids may not be quite so helpful now that we’re adults. I mean, we can survive on our own, but don’t you want more than survival? Don’t you want friends and neighbors and... I don’t know...love?”

      “Love?” He had to tease her. It was his brotherly duty. “I don’t know about that, seeing as you’ve gone all soft on me since you got together with Todd. Where’s the Nora who taught me to look out for myself and make sure I succeeded?”

      “All that’s still important. But if that’s all we do, life’s not going to be very rich, is it? I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. But you asked for my opinion. And my opinion is to ignore the numbers and share the water.”

      “It’s not what I expected you’d say.” He crumpled up the paper in disgust. And because he was still her little brother, he threw it at her.

      Nora caught it in one hand and grinned. “Glad I can still surprise you, bro. Trust me on this one, okay?”

      “Sure. But if that well runs out of water, you’ll help me figure out what to do next, right?”

      “I’ll buy you your first water delivery.”

      “Ah...so consoling.” He delivered the sarcasm with a smile. “You always were good to me.”

      Nora laughed. “Back atcha. And one more piece of advice?”

      “Do I have a choice?”

      She shook her head. “Nope.”

      “Fine. Shoot.” He sat back, waiting for the lecture. He dreaded it mostly because she was probably right. She always had been. Five years older than him and many, many years wiser.

      “Look, if you really want to get rid of the legacy of Dad and our brothers, and make the Hoffman name mean something more than larceny and drug deals, you need to get off this ranch. Don’t hide out here. You need to spend some time in town, meet some people. Let everyone see you’ve changed.”

      He let out a bark of a laugh. “This from the world’s biggest introvert.”

      “Yes, and even I’m trying.”

      She was. He’d seen it and admired her for it. Todd was friends with most of the town, and Nora gamely stepped out by his side, quietly facing down anyone who despised her for her family history. “I hate it when you’re right all the time.’

      “It’s my job as your older sister.”

      “Ha!”

      “But seriously, Wade, you need to get out more.”

      It was clear she wasn’t going to let him off without a promise. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go out for a beer or something. As long as you let Todd off the leash for a night so he can go with me.”

      “I don’t have him on a leash!” she protested, flushing.

      Now he was in full-on little brother mode. It was far more comfortable than hearing about his mistakes. “Really? And when’s the last time you two spent more than a couple of hours apart?”

      “We like each other!” Nora was beet red now. She’d always blushed easily.

      “He’s leashed. Arf arf!”

      “Okay, twelve-year-old. You can borrow my fiancé for a night out this weekend. Now, do you need anything else? Because I told Todd I’d meet him for dinner.”

      “I rest my case.”

      She grinned. “Glad you’re feeling better. Now go fix things with Lori, you